Miracle Man
by ScarlytteNightshade
Summary: Original Prompt Tagline:Karkat; human!stuck; unwanted messiahdom. This is a de-anon from the memes because I loathe posting in that format. As always with this fandom: M for Karkat.
1. Chapter 1

((POSTED ON MEME: 10 AUGUST 2012))

"Karkat, it's good to see you again!" The elderly woman smiled fondly at the teen walking through the too-white hospital, his red scrubs sticking out almost painfully. He flashed a small smile before looking at his clip-board, a slight tinge to his cheeks. He mumbled something, but being elderly, she couldn't quite make it out. "Speak up, honey, you know these old ears of mine ain't as good as they used to be."

"Hello, Mrs. See, it's good to see you too." He hugged her from her wheelchair as he approached. She ruffled his unruly black mop gently and placed a small peck on his cheek, causing a small squeak of protest. She laughed as he pulled back, blushing at the PDA. She couldn't help it, he just had that effect on people. "How are the ulcers?"

"They've gone away since the last time you visited, Kar-honey."

Karkat blinked, unnaturally red eyes filled with confusion before joining the smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear that Mrs. See." He hugged her again.

"It's because of you." She patted his hand sagely, cloudy eyes looking distant.

Karkat simply rolled his eyes affectionately. He'd grown used to being told he worked miracles since joining the hospital as a volunteer four years ago as a thirteen year old who wanted to read to the younger kids. Since then he'd done everything from that to visiting the seriously ill for comfort. Mrs. See had been his favorite since the beginning (though it made him feel absolutely awful to have a favorite, he couldn't help it, he was a human and there for entirely flawed) of his time here. He just felt bad that he couldn't make her better. Her ulcers acted up every once in a while causing immense pain and the occasional blood vomiting. It scared him and her son, Jeff, but she assured them both that she was just fine.

He shook his head lightly, giving one last hug to Mrs. See as her nurse approached to take her back to her room. Glancing at his clip-board, he grimaced. He was three minutes late for his shift. Guilt wracked his frame. He _hated_ being late for anything, let alone helping people. Thankfully, the room was close by, just two hallways over from Mrs. See's room. He hurried, short legs trying to cover more distance than possible without flat-out running. He didn't necessarily look forward to cleaning the ICU, but that didn't mean being late was any excuse.

He made it just as the doctor left the room, a sad scowl plastered on her face, aging it beyond her thirty years. "Doctor Peixes?"

She jumped, her clip-board clattering to the floor loudly. "Oh! I didn't see you there Mr. Vantas!" Her scowl quickly changed into a blinding smile as she rushed to recover said item.

Karkat bit back an irritated groan and a few swear words. His lack of height did not give the nooksniffers around him the right to ridicule him about it endlessly! At least Feferi meant it in a nice way. He guessed. "I get that a lot." Some of the inner scowl slipped out.

Straightening, the symbol of her profession back in hand, she giggled. "Oh, Karcrab, always so touchy about things." She tweaked his cheek before looking at the charts on her board. "You're doing routine cleaning in Room 420, correct?" All trace of childish playfulness disappeared from her stance and face.

Karkat, ever immune to the subtleties of conversation, picked up on the change. "Yes, Dr. I am. I apologize for being late. Is..." he glanced at the name on his own chart "Makara doing well?" Shame washed over him, ICU, duh, that normally fell into the "not-doing-so-well" category. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The doctor's face stayed professional as she shook her head slightly. She didn't tell him what was wrong with the patient, confidentiality and such, just walked away. For the first time since meeting the bubbly doctor, Karkat thought he saw tears in her magenta eyes. He watched her for a second longer, trying to ignore the slight blush (damn it, he _hated_ the fact that he blushed easily a LOT more than he hated most other things) from his major fuck up before putting his hand on the knob to open the patient's room.


	2. Chapter 2

((POSTED ON MEME 13 AUGUST 2012))

Karkat signed the board for his time slot. The information on the board read "Gamzee Makara; Age 18." He scoffed. Too damn young to be in one of these rooms. Casting a glance to the bed where the comatose teen (damn, how tall was he? He nearly hung over the end of the bed!) lay hooked to various tubes and machines, he felt sick. It was bad enough being in these rooms when they were empty. Death just clung to everything in the rooms. The overly white walls reflected light and made visitors think they were seeing the light that meant their endso how the hell did they expect the patients to pull through?

Oh, that's right, logic. Karkat's one and only religion. If the patient pulled through it was because science and medicine fixed them, that they got whatever the hell was wrong with them out and dealt with. No amount of praying could do shit. It was a bunch of hoofbeast shit propagated to make the living feel better about the dying and the dying feel better about...well...dying.

Damned shame it didn't work, though. Make certain jobs a lot fucking easier and a lot more people a lot happier. But whatever. He had a job to do and it didn't include standing around spreading his anti-religion.

Checking his note, he found one thing. A short little command in elegant, scrawling cursive. '_Talk to him.'_ They didn't say anything else. Flipping the pages over, he found nothing. Not even sheets for other patients. Uh, the fuck? He checked the hallway briefly and found nothing; it confused the fuck out of him. How did they expect him to be of use? Hmm?

Karkat scoffed. What good would being talked to by a fuckass like him do for the kid? It would just make everything a whole hell of a lot worse...that's all he was fucking good for on this fucking planet full of fucking morons. No, the planet wasn't full of morons, it just made him feel better about his inner anger to say things like that. And then of course he'd have to work his ass off and try to do something good for other people, thus continuing the cycle. Okay, so another little white lie to himself about _why_ he did so much charity, but the whole argument "I feel compelled to help random strangers" would certainly cast his sanity into an...uncertain light. Most of the douches he called friends thought his community service was the result of court orderings.

Shaking his head in annoyance about yet another inner tangent (damn, did he love talking to himself like a narcissistic, nooksniffing asshole) he crossed the room and collapsed into the bedside chair. The long school day finally caught up with him; every bone in his body seemed to ache from the mere fact they existed at that moment. He wanted nothing more than to sink into his bathtub and soak for hours while his romcoms played in the background. The epitome of peaceful. Karkat glanced to the bed beside him, drawn in by the same feeling that drew him to the other patients. "Well," He murmured to himself, drawing his knees to his chest. "I'm luckier than others. Poor fuckass..."

Not taking his eyes off the figure laying lifelessly on the bed, he sat there. Watching. The patient—Gamzee was it?—called to him more than all others. Why? Why was he even in this room? What the hell happened to put him here?

Karkat searched everywhere he could see, finding nothing wrong other than the sickly pale of his skin. He was pretty sure it wasn't natural, seeing as he had somewhat of an olive skin tone beneath the sallow.

Because of the time spent simply staring at Gamzee and taking in everything about him he could, he hadn't noticed the daylight slipping away until the door slammed open.

"Gamzee, you MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT!"


End file.
